


Happy and Glorious

by gemmawolf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate History, Forbidden Love, M/M, Modern Royalty, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5868430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemmawolf/pseuds/gemmawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As an omega prince, third in line to the throne of the British Empire, there are certain expectations Arthur Kirkland must meet, including who he is allowed to take as a mate. But meeting Alfred Jones, son of the new President of the United States, puts him in a position to fight the constitution at every turn for the right to love who he wishes. Omegaverse, Modern Royalty AU, Alternate History/Timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy and Glorious

**Author's Note:**

> Rating will increase, new characters introduced, and new tags added as the chapter progresses. Thanks.

He could never understand why mother would send him to hunt down Peter; that’s what nannies were for, surely? The last thing he needed right now was go get overheated and sweaty after the last two hours of pampering and preparation in time for their guests’ arrival. Fortunately, he knew exactly where the little brat was: locked up in his room playing video games.

 

Although he wanted to hammer the bloody door down, he knocked instead. “Peter,” he called, uncertain if he could be heard over the deafening volume of the race car sound effects. “Peter, it’s almost time to come downstairs! You had better be ready in there.” No response. He knocked harder. “Peter!”

 

The lock clicked and the door pulled inwards, revealing his little alpha brother glaring up at him. “I’m ready,” he whined. “Just five more minutes, please Arthur.”

 

Arthur wasted no time in grabbing him by the arm and hauling him down the corridor; omega or not, he was his big brother and he considered himself the dominant of the two, despite what others may have thought. The young boy pulled against him, calling him the worst brother ever and other such names. “Don’t fight me Peter,” he warned him, “a prince doesn’t have tantrums, certainly not at your age.” It wasn’t quite fair of him considering he’d done _exactly_ the same thing at the age of twelve, but Peter was too young at the time to remember.

 

“Why do I have to be there anyway?” the boy pouted, finally accepting his fate and walking without fuss. “It’s not like the President is interested in me.”

 

“Nor me, but we have to make an effort,” Arthur replied. “Mother said you could disappear again until dinner time though, so long as you do as you’re told and welcome our guests.” He handed him over to one of the staff. “Now you go ahead, I’ve still got to have my make-up done.”

 

With the hassle finally dealt with, he slipped back into his room. On any normal day he wouldn’t bother with make-up, but there would be a few select photographers present as well as a television crew, which meant he had to look his best; at least the routine only consisted of a little concealer and foundation to even out his skin tone, and perhaps a little enhancement of his finer features. “Any preference for this evenings dress wear, Your Highness?” Daniel, his omega valet, asked as his stylist applied a hint of blush.

 

“Anything, I really couldn’t care less,” the prince replied, watching his reflection in the mirror. He gave a sigh. “Today is going to be a chore, Daniel. All that smiling and small talk and feigning interest. I hate it.”

 

“Perhaps, sir, it might be worth the ordeal for the strawberry pavlova being prepared for desert.”

 

Arthur gave a light laugh. “You know me so well.”

\----

 

Well, this was it. The next five to ten minutes would be spent keeping up appearances and seeming to care about world affairs, then he could disappear into the library for an hour or two before getting ready for dinner. This was the first visit by President Jacob Jones since his inauguration, which called for a state banquet in honour of their American guests. Along with the President would be a smattering of cabinet members, his security team and White House staff, and his son, Alfred.

 

Arthur did not consider himself an idiot; he knew various tabloids and daytime television shows had been gossiping about how the two of them were of similar age, good looking, and potentially the next power couple to take the public by storm. He did not appreciate the pressure put upon him under to find an alpha and marry; the public were only after a royal wedding for a day off, and the media loved to poke their nose into the life of Royals for a cheap story. Not only that, the idea of spending every day in the limelight until his elder brother took a mate filled him with dread. It was a shame really; from what he’d read about Alfred Jones (not that he’d been trawling through his Wikipedia page or anything) he was every omega’s dream mate, though he supposed his family’s oil money helped his image considerably. If he was anything like his middle-aged, whitened-toothed father though, who had stepped out of the heavily armoured car and was receiving his greeting from the King and Queen, all loud thanks and an overly familiar way of speaking, Arthur wouldn’t have any trouble persuading himself to dislike him.

 

As an omega of lower rank in the immediate royal family, it was not considered inappropriate to receive a kiss on the back of the hand. He dreaded such exchanges, but held his tongue for the sake of his mother, who pleaded with him to uphold the grace of a royal omega. He gave a pleasant smile as President Jones bowed his head to press his dry lips to his skin, but concealed a sigh of relief as he moved on to shake his brother’s hand. He wouldn’t be expected to exchange words with the man, he was just a pretty face for the cameras. Oh, and for Jones Junior.

 

The first thing he noticed about Alfred Jones were his glasses. He wasn’t wearing any in the pictures online, looking more like a surfer or personal trainer than the mellow young man nervously addressing his parents. He’d been expecting levels of confidence bordering on arrogance, a smooth talker desperate to knock elbows with the most powerful family in the world, but instead he tripped over his words and offered his hand to the King – the King! The Emperor of the British Empire. Fortunately for him he realised his mistake, and followed the lead of Arthur’s parents in proper protocol. The Queen must have taken pity on him for it was her who introduced the American alpha to her son.

 

“My dear, this is my middle son, Arthur,” she said in her usual gentle tone, placing one hand in the small of the prince’s back to encourage him forward. “Arthur, this is Alfred Jones. He has overtaken much of the family business since his father came into office.”

 

“How do you do?” Arthur smiled, offering him his hand. Somehow he didn’t mind the idea of Alfred kissing it.

 

But the alpha had other plans, giving it a vigorous shake instead. “G-Good thanks, you?” he stammered, his tight grip taking Arthur’s breath away both from surprise and the heavy pressure.

 

The prince wasn’t able to smother his laugh on time, earning a glare from his mother. He bit his snickering back and continued smiling, but he didn’t have to force it any more. “Very well thank you,” he answered, flicking his gaze up to make eye contact. Those big blue eyes stared back, screaming _I’m out of my depth!_ The poor thing clearly needed taking under someone’s wing.

 

“I understand my father is to take yours on a tour of the palace,” he said, glancing over to the two men beginning to take the stairs. “Perhaps you’d like to accompany me around the grounds? I imagine trailing behind them for the next few hours does not fill you with excitement.”

 

“Uh…” Alfred looked over the omegas shoulder to the bodyguard standing several feet behind him. “Sure. If that’s alright,” he said.

 

“Wonderful. We can start with the garden,” Arthur replied, and took a few steps towards the exit of the Grand Hall. Sensing his absence, he looked back to find the alpha had barely moved. “Shall we?”

 

Alfred nodded and jogged to catch up with him, shoulders tense as they passed by the security team, and remaining so as two of the watchful alphas followed them outside. The day was overcast, but warm enough to be out without a coat; now they were out of the spotlight of the cameras, the omega undid the top button of his shirt and passed his suit jacket to one of the bodyguards. “You can relax now,” he assured the edgy alpha, “we’re out of their sights.”

 

“Okay,” Alfred mumbled. He still didn’t relax.

 

Arthur took in a lungful of air and exhaled deeply. He loved being in the garden, strolling round the perimeter of the lake, sitting on one of the stone benches amongst the trees with an engrossing book. Being in the centre of London made the air less fresh than he would have liked, but the expansive lawn and cultivated woodland was the closest thing he had to being in the countryside for most of the year. Being outside helped to clear his head, which was vital as he tried to work out how to talk to the alpha.

 

He started small. “How has your time in London been so far?”

 

He was rewarded with a shy smile. “Really great,” Alfred replied, “everyone’s been so friendly welcoming us. There was a crowd of people at the airport wanting to shake dad’s hand.” Perhaps realising he was babbling, he fell quiet again.

 

“I bet there have been plenty of young omegas desperate to meet you, too,” he probed. “You’re quite popular over here.”

 

“Really?” he asked, perking up at the question. “Why?”

 

Arthur heard one of the guards behind them cough; he was well aware the American wasn’t following protocol, but frankly didn’t care. He enjoyed being spoken to as an equal, not some fragile omega that must be protected, nor a god on a pedestal that no mortal may touch. And he didn’t want to heighten the young man’s nerves any further. “You know Alfred, technically you should be addressing me as ‘Your Highness’ upon greeting, then ‘sir’ each time after that.”

 

Alfred recoiled, wincing. “Oh, right, sorry. Er, Your Highness.”

 

The prince waved a hand in the air. “But just call me Arthur in private,” he insisted. “Save the formalities for when we’re in front of other people.”

 

They walked in silence for a while more, Arthur struggling what to talk about. Finally it was Alfred who spoke up with a chuckle. “Damn, I think this back yard is even bigger than the one at the White House.”

 

“Is it now?” Arthur enquired. “You know I never have visited in person.”

 

“As opposed to visiting not in person?”

 

The omega laughed; there was a fine line between innocence and cheek, and he wasn’t entirely certain which side of it Alfred was on, but he found his openness endearing. He didn’t dress his words up more than needed, as he had been trained to do. “Quite,” he replied at last, hoping the alpha didn’t think he was laughing at him.

 

“Is there anything in particular you would like to see?” he asked a moment later, looking back to the palace across the lawn as they circled past the far side of the lake. “I only brought you out here first for some breathing space. You appeared flustered.”

 

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, I was panicking a little in there. I don’t really know what you have here though, it’s much bigger than home.”

 

“I could give you a brief history of the building,” he offered.

 

“Err, yeah, I guess?”

 

He tutted and rolled his eyes. “If you’re not interested just say so, I won’t be offended.”

 

“Well I never was very good at history,” the alpha admitted. “What do you guys do for fun around here? I can’t imagine you playing Call of Duty in your spare time.”

 

“No, that would be my brother, Peter,” Arthur sighed. “I prefer to read or practice music.”

 

“Aw sweet!” the alpha grinned. “What do you play?”

 

“Oh, the usual. Piano, violin, cello, flute-“

 

Alfred groaned. “How can you be so good at so many things? In college I was just that asshole in the quad with his guitar.”

 

“It’s not as if you’ve heard me play yet,” Arthur murmured, still somehow glowing from the compliment. “And guitar is pleasant. I played a little of the drums when I was younger.”

 

“No way.”

 

“It’s true. I was rather rebellious in my teenage years.” And his early twenties, which at twenty-three he was still technically in. Living independently at university was the first opportunity he’d had to really let loose, without rules or protocols to hold him down. The University of Oxford understood that the prying eyes of the media were a potential distraction to the second prince’s education and took every measure to uphold his privacy, enabling him to get away with all sorts of devilish fun without the public ever knowing. But now he was home, and under the ever watchful gaze of his parents; no heavy drinking, no parties, and certainly no hooking up.

 

“I was a total nerd,” Alfred said. “Still am, to be honest. We travelled around a lot when I was a kid which made it hard to keep friends, so I spent a lot of time indoors reading comics and collecting Pokémon cards and stuff. It helped having a big allowance. Mom and dad were so desperate to get me outside though that they took me camping and hiking on the weekends, it was awesome! Dad taught me to fish and light a fire, mom showed me how to fix up and tent and cook.”

 

“Oh don’t talk to me about cooking,” Arthur interjected with a chuckle. “I set the dormitories on fire twice in my time at university.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you need to cook right?” Alfred grinned back.

 

Arthur’s cheeks were beginning to hurt with all the smiling. Listening to Alfred blab on about his childhood was enough evidence for him that he felt comfortable in his company. As they made it back to the patio steps, he said, “You still haven’t answered my question. What would you like to see?”

 

“You haven’t answered my question,” Alfred replied. “What do you do for fun here?”

 

The prince paused for a moment, taking the opportunity to retrieve his jacket and redo his collar as he wondered what the alpha might find interesting; he had to be a good host after all. “I have a few ideas,” he said at last, a pair of footmen on hand to open the door for them.

 

There were extensive facilities throughout the palace, and once he began showing them to Alfred, Arthur realised he didn’t take advantage of them as much as he should. The swimming pool and gym made the alphas eyes light up at the prospect of getting some exercise during his trip, and Arthur had to admit to himself he wouldn’t mind watching him. The library didn’t have the same effect, although the real reason he’d brought him was to show off what was essentially his lair; two floors of books lining the shelves from top to bottom, large arched windows pouring in natural daylight, and a grand fireplace to heat the massive room during winter. The seating arrangement always reminded him of Goldilocks and the Three Bears; each of the family of five had their own preferences of how soft or supportive their chair needed to be, resulting in a mismatch of furniture one wouldn’t expect in a palace. He’d spent countless hours in here hunched over a desk during the Christmas and Easter breaks, studying for the perfect grade in exams. Alistair hadn’t cared for academic life; the elder alpha brother merely hit the scores required for the armed forces to take him on without father’s persuasion, so it was left to Arthur to maintain the family standard.

 

He told Alfred this with a curt honesty he wasn’t usually able to express. “Where is your brother, anyway?” the alpha asked on their way out. “I didn’t see him earlier.”

 

“He’s fighting in South Africa,” Arthur answered simply. Being royalty, he would have the very best protection out there, but he still worried for him, they all did. Their father had served his time in the military as a prince, as was tradition; it was only right that the future king would fight alongside his own men after they had pledged their undying loyalty to the crown. He wished Alistair wasn’t in the centre of all the action though; they could have easily sent him to India as part of the guard, but he had a sneaking suspicion his brother had requested to be placed in the midst of chaos.

 

For some of the public, he hadn’t earned any popularity points for the move. Many were under the impression that the colonies were within their rights to rebel, that they’d been repressed and exploited long enough and it was time for the monarchy to gracefully let them go, not to shoot them down in person. But it was never so simple. The factions fighting their forces were all after a claim on each regions government, their leaders wishing to control the land and the people; their demands for freedom from the tyranny of the British Empire was merely a rallying cry to the native population, or so he was told. He was no general, nor was he involved in the politics of the situation, but the prince could clearly see how the people would be worse off under such corruption, even if the Empire’s regime did not provide equality. Whether his father refused to hand over the lands for the same reason, or if it had more to do with the loss of exports and influence, he wouldn’t like to say.

 

“Sorry,” he heard Alfred say; he’d fallen quiet for a while. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

“No, I’m not upset,” he assured him, unable to put his thoughts into words.

 

The next stop was the home cinema. The interior design was a throwback to his parents’ youth, all velvet seats and drapes at the edge of the humongous screen; they even had a popcorn machine in one corner for fresh snacks. Alfred gave a low whistle. “Nice,” he said, taking in the atmosphere. “Surround sound, too.”

 

“Only the best,” the prince said. “We can request any title, even before their official release. If you would like we can watch something during your stay.”

 

“Sure, I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

There was one last place he wanted to show him. “It’s not technically for our use,” he explained, “but I like to spend time there.”

 

He was a frequent visitor to the Royal Mews, consisting of the carriage house and stables, the latter of which was his main interest. While Alistair held close bonds with his gun dogs, Arthur had a passion for all things equine. The horses stabled at the palace weren’t his – the show horses being kept at Sandringham – but it was enough for him to go from stall to stall with some treats and give the gentle beasts a scratch behind the ear for looking so beautiful. Some days, if he was feeling particularly restless, he’d change into some casual clothing and help muck out and groom.

 

His appearance prompted several nickers in the hopes of receiving a nibble. The stable master spotted him and approached, stopping to give a quick bow. “Your Highness,” he greeted him politely.

 

“Good morning Fredrick,” he smiled back. “This is Alfred Jones, the President’s son. I was hoping to give him a quick look around the stables.”

 

“Certainly sir. Would you like some apples for the horses?”

 

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

 

The stable master disappeared into the feed room for a moment, giving them chance to stroke the first horse. “Well this I’m familiar with at least,” the alpha said, giving the grey a solid pat on the neck. “We’ve got a ranch in Texas where we spend the spring.”

 

“I have my own horses at Sandringham House,” Arthur replied. “I’d like to practice with them more often, but father says we can’t run a whole household just for me to train.”

 

“Oh yeah, you do shows, right?”

 

The prince nodded. “Eventing, yes. Though cross country is my favourite.”

 

The servant returned with a bag of sliced apples for them to hand out. The carriage horses were of impeccable nature, never knocking him in demand for food or pawing the ground to beg. He preferred animals with a bit more character, but it was nice to know what to expect from such docile beasts; he could bring a visitor to see them without worrying about them being bitten or kicked, unlike his own horses who had a mind of their own.

 

They hardly spoke as they made their rounds, simply listening to the quiet munching of hay and enjoying the silky soft feel of the horses’ noses as they gently took their piece of apple. By the time they had circled back to the entrance, the alpha was growing restless again. “Worried about tonight?” Arthur asked.

 

“Yeah,” he admitted with a sigh. “I’m not used to all this small talk and protocol and stuff. I’d rather be honest with people and have a laugh, you know?”

 

Arthur did know. And he knew exactly who he wanted to sit next to at the banquet. “I understand,” he said, leading them back outside. “But it’s only for tonight. After that you can enjoy yourself and forget about keeping up appearances – just don’t attempt to shake the King’s hand again.”

\---

 

They said goodbye once back inside the palace, one of the bodyguards leading Alfred to his guest room. Once he was out of sight, Arthur ran straight to the Queen, finding her in her drawing room. “Mother, who am I sitting next to at dinner?” he asked, panting heavily from the exertion.

 

The woman looked up from her embroidery in surprise. “Arthur? Come, sit down and catch your breath. I’ve put you between Peter and the Prime Minister, why do you ask?”

 

He collapsed onto the settee opposite her. “I’d like to be seated next to Alfred,” he said quietly.

 

The Queen didn’t respond for a moment. “While it’s inconvenient to change the seating arrangement now, I’ll have it done. But why? Have you made a friend?”

 

The prince scoffed and sat up straight. “You say that as if I have no friends.”

 

“You don’t.”

 

“What about Francis?” he replied indignantly. “And Antonio, and Ludwig.”

 

“You had a crush on Antonio when you were fifteen,” his mother replied without looking up from her work, “and Ludwig is merely a rival in the eventing world, you told me that yourself. But I’ll give you Francis.”

 

“Yes, well, thank you” he said, standing. “I need to freshen up and get ready for dinner, if you’ll excuse me.”

 

The state banquet was a white tie event, but as an omega he was permitted to wear a formal suit of another colour theme. He’d early requested a navy blue suit be laid out for him, his way of appearing as casual as possible in a highly formal setting, but it was time to discard that plan and instead look as stunning as possible.

 

Daniel was waiting for him in his room. “I’m going to take a shower,” he told him, passing him the jacket he’d retrieved from the security guard. “I’d like you to find me a charcoal grey suit instead, a recent one that complements my figure.”

 

“O-Of course, Your Highness.”

 

“Oh, and I will be wearing make-up tonight, as natural in appearance as possible.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Under the hot downpour of water in the shower, Arthur had chance to clear his head. He liked Alfred, that much was certain, and the alpha didn’t dislike him; whether their relationship could ever pass from being acquaintances to anything more would become evident tonight. The more cautious side of his mind warning him from getting his hopes up on yet another alpha; he was attractive, rich, famous, and he could have any omega he wanted. The Kirklands’ royal status didn’t count much towards his own appeal; Alfred could do or buy anything he liked and being in such a tightly kept household clearly made him uncomfortable. On top of that, the papers would have a field day if a member of royalty were to date a commoner, a foreign one no less; they would be subject to endless hassle and stalking by the paparazzi. As he ran through it in his mind, Arthur’s mood sank as he realised he had nothing to offer the alpha.

 

Eventually he had to come out of the shower, or he’d be running late. Soft, fresh-scented towels awaited him on the heated rail, absorbing the water off his skin without having to rub at it. He took the time to moisturise with shea butter lotion, the natural, heavenly scent lifting his omega senses to another plane; if his job was to look pretty then he could justify all the pampering that went into his daily routine. Dressed in a silk bathrobe, he emerged from the bathroom to have his hair dried and treated by his stylist, followed by another round of make-up and touching up his manicure. A new suit was laid out for him, and once he slipped into it his fears of rejection melted away; any young alpha must be mad not to want such a fine specimen on their arm for the evening. A puff of musky perfume and he was ready.

 

Standing behind the double doors leading into the Ballroom, he felt the usual tide of nerves sweep over him. All those people, stopping to acknowledge his presence, he didn’t think he’d ever be used to it. He took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders, holding his posture. He listened apprehensively to the announcement of his arrival to the banquet. “Presenting His Royal Highness Prince Arthur, Duke of York.”

 

Stepping into the warm glow of the Ballroom was the hardest part; he was greeted with simple bows and introduced to a number of politicians and their omegas, before finally being allowed to slip away in search of Peter and whatever mischief he was getting himself into. The twelve-year-old was bugging a page over by the table. “I’m the Prince, and if I want a piece of cake you have to give it to me,” he cajoled the poor lad, “or else I’ll tell the Queen.”

 

“Peter!”

 

The youngest prince flinched at the sound of his name, but didn’t get chance to turn to his brother before he was pinched by the ear. “Ow! Let go!” he whined.

 

“You should know better than to threaten our hardworking staff,” the omega snarled. He then tucked away his aggressive side and offered a sympathetic smile to the servant. “My apologies. The only thing Her Highness will hear about is his appalling behaviour.”

 

“Your Highness, it is quite alright, but thank you,” he replied, giving a little bow before excusing himself to the kitchen.

 

Arthur glared at his brother. “You’re staying with me until mother arrives,” he said.

 

“But I’m so _bored_ ,” the youngster groaned, rubbing his freed ear. “I don’t want to be at some stupid dinner party.”

 

“It’s not a dinner party, it’s a formal state banquet. And tough – it’s our duty to ensure our guests are having a good time.”

 

“Like your boyfriend?”

 

He held back from tugging his siblings’ hair; such rough housing was only appropriate in private. “Alfred is not my boyfriend,” he ground out, trying to keep his expression neutral.

 

Peter smirked. “But you knew who I meant.”

 

The little brat was saved a beating by the arrival of their parents. Despite being family, they too were required to bow. While their father took to speaking with various esteemed guests, the Queen floated over to them; Arthur knew exactly what she was about to comment on. “Arthur dear, you are not wearing your tiara,” she purred, a hint of warning in her tone.

 

“I’ve told you before, mother, I find it gives me a headache,” he replied without attempting to hide his disinterest. It was a lie, they both knew it, but he found walking around with a silly band of metal and sparkling jewels on his head was a step too far where his appearance and ranking were concerned. Besides, Alistair and Peter didn’t have to wear one, so why should he?

 

He glanced down to Peter. “This one was harassing the staff for cake,” he said, shifting the subject to his brother. If he was going down, the brat was coming with him.

 

He should have known better though; being the youngest, Peter was their mother’s favourite. “Oh Peter,” she sighed, shaking her head – far from the fiery lecture Arthur’s own children would have received in the same situation. At least now he didn’t have to babysit his brother any longer, and he slipped away in search of Alfred.

 

He found the alpha standing off to one side of President Jones, looking lonely and thoroughly retched for a white tie occasion, one hand in his pocket as the other held his untouched glass of champagne. He did not notice Arthur’s approach until he was at his side, and immediately improved his posture. “Oh, Arth- I mean, uh, Your Highness,” he blundered.

 

The omega bit back a laugh and offered him his hand as a hint; this time, he did as he was supposed to and kissed it gently. “Master Jones,” he smiled, concealing the bubbling of delight in his chest. “How are you finding the evening so far?”

 

“Well I don’t really know anyone, and there’s been no food yet, so pretty rough actually,” he said, swilling his drink around. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”

 

Hoping the foundation was hiding his deep blush, Arthur flicked his gaze to floor. _Don’t read into it too much,_ he told himself. “I believe we’re sitting next to one another, so we shall have plenty of time to talk.”

 

“Great!” the alpha beamed. “How lucky is that?”

 

Arthur gave a tight smile, remembering the discussion with his mother earlier in the day. “Yes, quite.” He watched the golden liquid sloshing about in Alfred’s champagne flute. “Are you going to drink that?” he asked.

 

The alpha shrugged. “Probably not, I don’t like champagne,” he replied.

 

“Well give it here then.”

 

Through surprised, Alfred did as he was told and passed his drink to the prince, who wasted no time in taking a long drink of it. Arthur caught sight of his father glaring at him across the room; usually he would instantly improve his behaviour, but something about the American alpha made him want to toe the line. Besides, he was stuck in this blasted room for the next few hours, surrounded by blathering, brown-nosing alphas – he needed a drink. Alfred and alcohol were his only reprieve from the monotony of the event.

 

He kept an eye on his father as the alpha made his way from person to person, getting gradually closer to the head of the table; they had to be ready by their seats for his speech. After years of practice, Arthur timed it well, leading Alfred to their places just in time. He was able to zone out during the speech, returning to see the menu for the evening; it was all in French, but his mother’s foresight ensured the English translation was included below.

 

“Thank God,” Alfred said from his left, “I don’t know a word of French.”

 

“Do you speak any other languages?” Arthur asked.

 

“I did a little Spanish at school but I’m not exactly fluent. What about you?”

 

Arthur didn’t want to upstage him again, but he _had_ asked a question. “Well, I do know French and Spanish, as well as Latin, and I’m also learning Mandarin Chinese at the moment.”

 

“Wow,” Alfred sighed, “is there anything you can’t do?”

 

“I can’t walk around London without a security team,” he said, reaching for one of his six glasses, this one filled with white wine. “I can’t go on a day out without meticulous planning in advance, or alerting the location beforehand so they can train their staff in the ‘proper’ way to associate with me. It’s terribly dull.” He let out a heavy breath. “Sorry, I know you meant it as a compliment. It’s just that you’re so free to do as you please, even if you haven’t been tutored in every skill imaginable.”

 

Alfred readjusted himself and leaned in a tad, lowering his voice. “Can you keep a secret?” The prince nodded. “The main reason dad gave me the company to handle was to keep me from ruining his campaign. I can’t mess things up if I’m tied down in an executive suite somewhere, right?”

 

“That’s awful,” the omega said. “But clearly he trusts you enough to run his business?”

 

“You’d think so, but I do very little in reality. He’s got a team of CEOs to handle everything, I’m just there to keep up the impression of a family-run business.”

 

The appetiser arrived just as Arthur chuckled to himself, “You know Alfred, I do believe we have a lot more in common than I first thought.”

 

Alfred struggled his way through the appetiser and main course, not knowing what to make of the vast array of silverware provided, though he seemed to enjoy both dishes. He claimed he had taken etiquette lessons, but his tutor had quit; Arthur wasn’t sure whether it was meant as a joke or not. By the time desert was ready to be served, they had made plans for the alpha’s stay; the following day he was to tour London with the President, but the day after they could watch a film together of Alfred’s choice, as well as making use of the pool for a swim. “And if you are unable to visit somewhere you’d like tomorrow, we could always arrange our own trip out,” the prince suggested.

 

“Sounds good to me,” Alfred replied, though his eyes were fixed on the serving staff making their way towards them; the omega followed his gaze. He’d been waiting for this, waiting for the payment for showing his face tonight; in fairness, he had Alfred as company, but that hadn’t been planned for.

 

It was cruel temptation having the pavlova placed before him but being unable to start until his father did. At least he got an ever-so-slightly larger portion than everyone else, which didn’t go unnoticed by Alfred. “It’s my favourite,” he said, trying to justify himself; the chef knew he expected a little extra whenever his favourite dishes were being served. The highly-trained alpha knew just how demanding he was when it came to food, especially in the run up to his heat.

 

“So what are your plans for the rest of the year?” Alfred asked him once they were allowed to start.

 

“I’ll likely be cutting the ribbon on schools and hospitals.” He shook his head. “It’s a bit boring if I’m honest, but it’s a small favour to make people happy. Between those occasions I have a small number of equestrian shows to attend, though I’m only appearing in one of them.”

 

“You sure like horses, huh?” the alpha chuckled. “You’re definitely gonna have to visit the ranch some time.”

 

“I’d like to, but our next venture to the United States will be a state visit to the White House, as per tradition.”

 

“Only if your parents go,” the alpha pointed out. “You could come on your own.”

 

The prince gave a sad smile as he pushed the meringue around the glass dish. “As much as I’d love to, it would never be allowed.”

 

“Then I’ll just have to convince them,” Alfred promised him with a wink.

 

After dinner, Arthur was not required to stay. He excused himself on the grounds of being tired and got the chance to walk back to his room with Alfred, a bodyguard dutifully following behind. Arthur wasn’t sure what he would do with himself the following day whilst Alfred and his father were out and about. Instead he looked ahead to the day after, and buzzed with excitement at the prospect of spending time with him, something he hadn’t felt for another human being in a long time. “Have you considered which film you’d like to watch together?” he asked. “I can make the request tomorrow while you are out.”

 

Alfred scratched behind his ear. “Well, I have been meaning to see Blood Games for a while now, but I never made it to the theatre.”

 

The prince nodded politely, not quite sure what he was agreeing to watch. The title sounded a world away from the classic romance films he liked to enjoy, but he would be a good host and bear the inevitable gory horror pressed upon him. “I’ll, um, make sure they know,” he said as they approached the door to his room. “Well Alfred, I hope you have a good time tomorrow.”

 

“Thanks, you too. Whatever you’re doing, I mean.”

 

A part of the omega wanted to stop in front of his room, glance up coyly through his eyelashes, bite his lip, and receive a kiss for his efforts. The more sensible side of him snapped out of it, and slipped inside his quarters before he could do anything stupid, wishing the alpha goodnight. “Honestly, Arthur, you’ve not even known him a full day,” he chastised himself as he changed for bed. Yet that didn’t stop him from feeling a warm glow in his chest at the thought of the next few days they would spend together, as well as the realisation he didn’t need to offer him anything other than time together to bond over the similar interests they held. He took the guilty pleasure of snuggling into his plump pillows and imagining they were a certain alpha instead.

 

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This story has been in my head for well over a year now and I wanted to get it out there at last.

I’m not exactly familiar with Queen’s English, but since this is a modern royalty AU I’m gonna wing it and say that due to being raised in an age of media entertainment and going off to university (albeit a posh one) Arthur and his brothers aren’t quite as ‘up there’ in their way of speaking – still very polite and formal though. And I also imagine both male and female omegas of high class would be judged on their appearances and expected to look their best, women leaning towards colours and statement while men prefer more subtle and natural looking styles, the idea being that you can’t really tell they’re wearing any make-up and are perfect because of course, what’s an omegaverse fic without some nature inequality :)

I do in fact have a fic in the works where Arthur is the alpha and Alfred is the omega, but I don’t want too much on my plate at once – also I can’t decide how sad to make the ending, mwa ha haa.

Thanks so much for reading! Not sure when the next bit will be up but at least I’ve made a start xxx


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